NOT Gello's self loves more than I
The virgin train, m y company.
No thought of Eros doth appal
Their cheeks ; their strong, clear eyes let fall
No tears ; they dream their days will be
All laughter, love, serenity,
And violet-weaving at my knee—
Subtle Mnasidica in shape
As firm as the unripened grape,
Dica with meeting eyebrows sleek,
And Gorgo of the apple-cheek,
With that young, dove-eyed creature come
From Telos, whose soft lips are dumb ;
The golden bees about them hum.
Dica put forth her hand to reach
The blue sea-holly on the beach
Last night. I drew the child away ;
She knew not where the love-charm lay,
And from the fatal fibre let
Her hand relax ; but by his net
One stood she never can forget.
Ah me, and Gorgo too is pale !
Fell Cypris, if thou must prevail,
Mingle no madness in love's wine ;
That these should e'er as Sappho pine,
Goddess, forbid ! The little thing
From Telos must be taught to sing ;
The rest to Hymen's portals bring !